A Death in the Family: Traditions

Foreword: The series of articles I will be posting are all dedicated to my mom, Rufina Villegas Perez, who recently left us to join the Creator last January 3.

Mommy, you know I can better express myself in writing. This will probably be the best tribute in your honor that you will never hear/read.

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When Mommy passed away in the early morning of January 3, my daughter and I were caught flat-footed.

We just didn't know where to begin the process.

Thank God for our barangay paramedics, they were the ones who pointed us to the right direction on how to say our last goodbyes to Mommy.

After they confirmed my initial diagnosis that Mommy was really gone, they told us to find a funeral parlor in the vicinity and they will be the ones to pick up the remains.

The daughter and I were still wide-eyed and shivering from the early morning cold and the dawning of Mommy's passing on us when we got to the funeral parlor. The people in the office apparently noticed this and very patiently guided us through the motions.

I chose an all-in cremation package, and I didn't regret that choice. We got the entire package from the chapel for the wake to the coffin to the transport of the remains to the crematorium, and even the paperwork. All we had to do was to buy some snacks for the visitors to the wake, get some ribbons and flowers to adorn the coffin, get a priest for the mass, and show up at the wake itself.

Those nitty-gritty practical stuff, the daughter and I were able to deliver. It was the traditions about death that got us in a tizzy.

For example, we didn’t have any prayers for the dead led by the community elders on the first day since Mommy’s passing. Not that we didn’t want to have one – we just didn’t know any community elders in our place in Pasig.

Initially, the plan was to have Mommy cremated first before the wake. You see, at that moment when she breathed her last, her face was locked in this expression as if she was still gasping for air. Her mouth was open and I even had to tie her head (just like in Dolphy's comedies) to keep her jaw shut just so she won't be caught in rigor mortis looking that way. I was afraid that the embalmer and the makeup artist would also do a terrible job at making her look presentable for the wake. However, when we returned to the funeral parlor after the embalming, I was very happy with the job they made on Mommy. Other than signs of stuffing, her face looked quite radiant, her makeup not too gaudy. A friend also advised me that the Catholic Church may not approve of cremation prior to the mass in her memory. So fine, we had the cremation schedule adjusted.

Apparently, the Catholic Church still seems quite uncomfortable about cremations. Many years ago when cremations were not yet as popular as they are now and Mommy was still quite healthy, she already told me that when she passed on, she would like her body to be cremated and her ashes scattered in the waters off her hometown in Leyte. It was quite a romantic idea, so I decided to go with that plan of hers. When I mentioned that to Fr. Francis Lucas, former CBCP spokesperson and distinguished officiator of my mom's high mass, he related to me that when the Church eventually allowed cremation of its faithful departed, he also had that same plan of having his remains cremated and his ashes scattered in the ocean so that if in life, he wasn't able to travel much, in ash form he can travel to the four corners of the world. (Sabay tawa.) However, he was told by his elders that there are rules governing cremation, and among them is making sure that the ashes are kept intact and placed in a sacred dwelling -- like in a church columbary or a cemetery. So there.

Thus, Mommy's and my initial ashes-in-the-sea plan also went skimboarding away.

Then there was that tradition about family not leaving the dead alone during the entirety of the wake. Our reasons were practical and beneficial to my daughter’s and my health. There were only two of us left in our family, and going on shifts just so one could stay behind at the funeral home just wasn’t practical since barely no one visited in the mornings up to mid-afternoon. Besides, home was just one jeepney ride away from the funeral parlor so we found it more convenient for us to go home and recharge after the last visitor has left. Third, the daughter and I were barely sleeping already during those last few weeks with Mommy ever since she was confined in the hospital. By the time of the wake, our respective biorhythms were already at an all-time low. I was afraid that after Mommy, we would be the next ones to be hospitalized. We just had to get some rest.

Local tradition also dictates that when a guest is about to leave, said guest should not be accompanied out of the premises by the bereaved family. It is also considered proper for guests not to bid farewell to the family of the deceased as they exit. The daughter and I have yet to fathom the reasons behind these so while there were no clear-cut reasons behind them, we just kept on kissing, making beso-beso, and seeing to all our guests as they came and went. Why scrimp on all that love being shared, anyway?

We did follow the black dress code though. It just didn’t feel right for us to wear bright colors when the overall mood was solemn and contemplative.

Even if we didn't really understand why (although we were provided with horror stories to make sure we adhered to this), we also didn't bring home any food meant for the guests at the wake. Not that we were interested in bringing the food home, though. There was just so much of it, we felt that it was best shared with the funeral home caretakers who guarded and maintained the cleanliness of the chapel where Mommy's remains were placed.

I remember when a cousin of mine who met a violent death had her own wake. When it was time for her remains to be brought to the church for the high mass, her coffin was hoisted up by the gate and we -- the family members -- were made to pass under it. Of course, curiosity got the better of me and I just had to ask what that weird ritual was for. One of the elders explained that since the circumstances of my cousin's death were very dark, passing under her coffin at the threshold of the venue where the wake was held assures us family members that we won't get the bad vibes brought about by her death. An alternative to that is passing over the coffin, but since the coffin was quite wide, it seemed more practical to just pass under it.

Since Mommy passed on due to natural causes, thank God, we didn't have to go through that going over/under the coffin ritual.

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Traditions are supposed to define the culture of a people. However, when certain traditions lose their purpose in modern times, then why continue to observe them?

And even when my daughter and I weren't able to observe all the Filipino and Catholic death rituals, we haven't gotten showered upon by fire and brimstone yet, nor have we been given an unscheduled visit by Mommy's irate soul.

So I guess at the end of the day, we still did things right, after all.